


Your Hands Are So Restless

by Chash



Series: Charity Drive 2017 [21]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Clarke is, of course, thrilled to get the chance to represent Bellamy Blake when he decides to come back to Hollywood after he finishes college. He's a great actor, and seems like a good guy.It has absolutely nothing to do with the gigantic crush she had on him when he was playing James Potter. She's an adult. She's moved on. Definitely.





	Your Hands Are So Restless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellarkeandjily13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellarkeandjily13/gifts).



Clarke is _not_ nervous about her dinner appointment. She's not excited either, or curious, or anything else. She's a professional, but a young female professional, which means that she needs to be ten steps beyond professional to be taken seriously. And she's going to be.

So she has absolutely no non-work-related feelings about meeting Bellamy Blake. None. Bellamy Blake is an actor who's looking for a new agent, and she'd like to be that agent. He's high-profile, intelligent, and interesting. After _Marauders_ ended, he took a break from acting to pursue his education, and now he wants to get back into the business.

Clarke would be a great agent for him, she knows she would. She just also knows that he was her first real celebrity crush, and a part of her is giddily excited to get to meet him. Which is stupid; it's been five years since _Marauders_ ended, and she doesn't even know what he looks like these days. For all she knows, he's aged really poorly and his whole comeback idea is totally misguided.

Not that he wasn't a good actor on his own, or that she couldn't get him parts if he isn't as hot as he was at twenty, but--well, she's trying to remind herself that this isn't a big deal. Which it isn't. It's good that she's got this opportunity, and her being a genuine fan of his could be a plus, in terms of representing him. As long as she never admits that she used to buy teen gossip magazines just to read interviews with him, it's probably going to help her case that she knows something about his career.

She doesn't still have a crush on Bellamy Blake. That's the important thing.

Her phone buzzes as she's sitting in the car, waiting so she's only five minutes early to their dinner date. Her heart lurches on the thought that it could be Bellamy, canceling, but it's just Wells: _Get him to autograph a shirtless picture for me, thanks_.

It makes her smile, at least, and she lets out a breath, checks her hair one more time in the rear-view mirror, and then she makes herself go into the restaurant. She'll get the table, settle in, and once Bellamy shows up, she'll be ready for him.

So of course he's already seated at their table when she arrives, and the first thing he does is look up at her and smile.

He's wearing glasses, which he never did outside of the show before. She'd always miss them in interviews and photoshoots, always wished that he'd wear them more, and the sight of them now feels like a strange kind of hit to the solar plexus.

He stands and gives her a shy grin, and it's not like being fourteen again. It's so much worse than being fourteen again. She's supposed to be better than this. She's supposed to have gotten past it.

"Hi, you must be Clarke," he says, offering his hand.

Bellamy Blake looks a good deal like he did the last time she saw him, which was at some press thing after the _Marauders_ finale aired, aside from his hair. He'd cut it so short it barely even curled after the show ended, she assumed to distance herself from the shaggy-haired James Potter look, but it's grown back out now, a little longer, even. He has a broad smile and even more freckles than she remembered. He feels taller than she thought he would; there was all this debate online, during the show, about his exact height, because it wasn't on IMDB, and she'd been a little disappointed that everyone agreed he couldn't be more than six feet tall. When she was fourteen, she liked really tall guys.

She takes his hand and shakes it. It's warm and rough and huge, and she feels like the most pathetic person in the world.

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you, Bellamy. Welcome back to Hollywood."

His face screws up, like he's smelling something rotten. "Thanks, I think."

Clarke has to smile. "Don't sound so excited about it."

"I'm trying not to." He gestures to the seat across from himself, and she takes it. He waits until she has to sit himself, and then he watches her, thoughtful. Which is also a lot to process. It's not just that he's attractive, although he obviously is. It's that he's got a charismatic presence, the kind of intensity that can be overwhelming. It's not uncommon with actors, in her experience; making you feel like you're the only person in the world is something they all seem to learn. Clarke is usually pretty good at not getting star-struck, but he's _Bellamy Blake_. And he's being charming in her general direction.

She's expecting him to pick up the conversation, but he takes too long, so she figures it's up to her. She's the agent; she's supposed to be good at this. "So, I know Marcus gave you my name because you want to get back into acting," she says. "What I don't know is why you want to get back into acting."

"Am I not supposed to want that?" he asks, amused. 

"I just wasn't sure. I did my research on this. You left college and went to school to get your degree. Which is really cool, obviously. I just didn't know if you were coming back to the business after you finished, or if you were done. Were you always planning to come back?"

He taps the stem of his water glass. "Not always. But--I do a lot of conventions. Over the summer, just to get some extra cash. And I met a lot of fans who told me, you know." He shrugs one shoulder. "Representation matters. I got lucky, but--it means a lot to people, seeing me on their screens. And it's cool I can do that. Besides, I like acting."

"So, you want high-profile roles?" she asks. "You're trying to be a movie star?"

"I don't know about that. I like TV. That's a better fit for me. I don't really like--" He huffs. "There's no way I can say this without sounding like I'm seventy years old, but I don't like being away from home for that long. My sister's here, and she says I'm an overprotective asshole who never leaves her alone. Which isn't how I'd put it, but--it's not exactly wrong."

It's strange, hearing him talk about himself so casually, candidly. His relationship with his sister was always a popular topic in interviews back in the _Marauders_ days, one of those _wow, what a great guy_ things that are a slam dunk for PR. Even before he became his sister's legal guardian at nineteen, he talked about her a lot, about how she'd hang out on set while his mom was at work and later in the hospital, how he'd been the one to give her her name.

She feels kind of shitty for knowing all this stuff, but--if she'd just googled him, she'd know it too. A lot of it is on his wikipedia article. But the fact that she had to check to make sure she wouldn't know anything that would betray her teenage fandom makes her feel a little squirmy.

"So, you're looking for mostly TV work in the Los Angeles area."

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I know, I'm supposed to be more ambitious. This is why Marcus thought I'd have trouble finding an agent."

"Really?"

He raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"This is easy. I find you a steady gig on a TV show and pick up my percentage. You're James Potter, it's not going to be hard to find you something, if that's the kind of role you're looking for. That's a lot easier than if you want to be famous. I have plenty of pain-in-the-ass clients already. I could use someone easy."

"How many clients do you have?" he asks, sounding curious. "No offense, but you look like you started doing this last week."

"I started after I finished college," she says. "I do have other clients, yeah. I'm twenty-four. Is that a problem for you? You started acting when you were sixteen, I don't think you have any high ground about how old I have to be to do my job."

He laughs, surprised. "I was just curious, but you probably get that a lot. I assumed Kane wouldn't have told me to call you if you weren't good."

"Yeah, okay." She considers him, but--he's not the first client of hers who's been concerned about her age. "My friend Miller wanted to act when we finished college," she goes on. "But he couldn't find an agent. I told him I'd do it."

"And you did? Just like that?"

He sounds dubious, and she can't blame him. "My mom had just married Marcus, so I had some ins. I know I was lucky. I wasn't doing it full-time at first, but Miller had some friends who needed representation too, and I started networking, and it just kind of happened. I do a lot of TV stuff, and I want to make Miller into an action star even though he loves Shakespeare and hates talking to people."

Bellamy laughs. "Wow. That makes you sound like a really great agent. Listening to what your client is looking for."

"I get him indie stuff too," she says. "And if you don't want to do a project, you can always say no. But Miller would be a great action hero, so, yeah. I'm going to make it happen."

"And I wouldn't be?"

"You can do anything if you believe in yourself," she says, straight-faced, and he lets out a surprised laugh. She lets herself smile. "I don't know you well enough to tell you what you should be doing with your life yet."

"Yet?"

"Give me a couple months. I'll have a lot of opinions."

"I bet." He studies her for another minute, and Clarke feels her stomach swoop again, against her will. He seems like a cool guy, and she'd like him if this was just a regular business meeting. She just wishes she could forget that she had a picture of him shirtless and wet taped to her wall when she was fourteen, and it was basically all that got her through her parents' divorce. Projecting onto a cute boy on TV was really important. "So, you want to be my agent," he says, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"I assume you'd pay me, so yeah. I want to be your agent. That's my job."

"Cool." He raises his glass. "Find me something good, okay?"

She raises her own in response, trying not to smile too ridiculously. "I think I can handle that."

*

Bellamy is actually an awesome client. She gets him a pilot which unfortunately doesn't get picked up, but she finds him a recurring role on a decent sitcom after that, and he seems happy with it. In a work capacity, he's basically perfect. He's low drama, popular on set, and looks likely to be upgraded to season regular next year. 

And, somehow, they also start hanging out.

She thinks it's mostly that he doesn't really have a lot of other friends. He seems to be on decent terms with the _Marauders_ cast, but they're all doing different things now, scattered around on their own projects. He has some college friends, but she thinks there's some distance there because of his profession, and he hasn't bonded with anyone on his new show yet.

So they end up being friends. It's surreal to Clarke, the way she can just call up _Bellamy Blake_ and ask if he's bored, and he invariably will be, and he'll come over and sit on her couch and watch Netflix and grumble about how she never has any fucking _food_ , and he's disappointed in her as an adult. 

It's not really like any of her fantasies about meeting and befriending him were, which is to be expected. She was fourteen, and her fantasies generally involved running into him somewhere in LA and him thinking she was cute and asking him to be his date to an awards show. Which was unrealistic in a lot of ways, but still doesn't actually feel as unrealistic as _her actual life_ , where she's his agent and he texts her throughout the day to complain about how the rest of the cast makes fun of him for not knowing anything about contemporary music. At fourteen, she didn't think she'd ever have it _this_ good. And the only person who even knows how awesome it is is Wells, because he's the only person she still hangs out with who was privy to her embarrassing Bellamy Blake phase in high school, so he makes her send him a bunch of snaps of the two of them together.

Which she does, obviously. The worst part is only bragging about it to Wells, if she's honest. She's friends with _Bellamy Blake_ ; there are a lot of people on the internet whose faces she'd love to rub in this. But their emails probably don't even work anymore, so she's had to give up on that dream.

And that's fine. After all, she is still friends with him. And it's safer if as few people as possible know about her former obsession.

Which she should have thought of before she invited him for Thanksgiving.

At the time, it seems completely logical. Octavia has a new boyfriend, and she's spending the holiday with his family, which has Bellamy moping when he hears about it. Clarke understands why he's upset; Octavia is his only living family member, and without her he has no one to spend the holiday with. But her mother and Marcus are already in LA, and he already knows Marcus, if not Abby.

"So you might as well just hang out with us," she finishes. As pitches go, she thinks it's pretty good.

"You want me to have Thanksgiving with your mother?" he asks, sounding wary.

"What's wrong with Thanksgiving with my mother?"

"Nothing," he says. "Who doesn't want to spend a major holiday with someone they've never met?"

"Like I said, you've met me, you've met Marcus. The only one you haven't met yet is my mom. And she'll be happy to have you."

"It sounds kind of private," he admits.

"Private?"

"Just family."

"I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you to come," she points out, gentle. "And they might be inviting people too. I can tell them to, if it'll make you feel better. We could make it a party."

"No, that would definitely just make me feel worse." He gives her half a smile. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I would love it if you joined us for Thanksgiving," she says.

"Can anyone else in your family cook? What are we eating?"

"My mom hires people to make her food. But they do it before Thanksgiving and she just warms it up on the day of, don't worry. They get to spend the holiday with their families."

"If they get to spend the holidays with their families," he says, and gives her a shy smile. "Thanks. For inviting me."

"It's going to be fun."

She really does believe it, right up until they're at the door and her mother greets Bellamy with, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I really enjoyed your _Marauders_ show."

Okay, that's fine by itself, but Bellamy responds, "Oh, uh, thanks. I didn't know you were a fan," and Abby actually _winks_ at Clarke and says, "Not a huge one. But Clarke watched it all the time, so it was hard to avoid."

Clarke has never mentioned that she watched _Marauders_ , but she figured Bellamy assumed she had. She's in the right age range for it, and it was a huge hit. _Everyone_ at school watched it. 

But that's pretty different from _Clarke watched it all the time_.

"I guess so," he says, giving Clarke a small smirk, and she tries not to blush. 

She's expecting some more light teasing, but Bellamy just asks if there's anything he can do to help with the meal, and Abby takes them into the kitchen. It's early, hours to go until dinner, but it felt like there wasn't much of a reason to hang around at her own apartment on the holiday.

She told Bellamy he could come later, and she almost wishes he had, but--more time with Bellamy is always good, as far as she's concerned. And while he and her mother are a little awkward together, there's something nice there too. Clarke and Abby are a little awkward themselves, but everyone is trying, and it's nice. Marcus has some sort of business to attend to, because he always does, but that's kind of nice too. One of Clarke's issues these days is that she sometimes feels she doesn't just get to see her _mother_.

So, of course, Abby gets a call at three saying she needs to come into the hospital for an emergency consult, and Clarke and Bellamy are left alone again.

"You know, no one gave me a house tour," he remarks.

"You want a house tour?"

"Not really. But if you've got an embarrassing high-school bedroom, I want to see that. Do you have trophies for being the most uptight?"

"Shut up," she says. "Honestly, I can't even remember if she cleared out my old stuff or not."

He nudges her shoulder. "So let's find out."

Clarke's father was the one who moved out in the divorce, so the house is still her childhood home, familiar without being the same. Her mother is constantly remodeling and redoing things, and she knows that her room won't look like it used to. Abby definitely would have taken down the Bellamy Blake pictures. She's sure of that.

Like--95% sure. 

Fuck, there better not be any pictures of Bellamy on her wall.

It's too late to stop now, though, so she opens up the bedroom door and breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that it's been redone too. The whole thing looks completely generic, like just another guest room, and Bellamy makes a face.

"I really hope this isn't what it looked like when you lived here."

"No, she cleared it out," says Clarke. "It definitely had a personality before."

"What kind of personality?"

"Basically what you'd expect."

He's walking around the room with a curious expression, like he can find some traces of her in it, if he just believes hard enough. It's kind of cute.

"Try the closet," she says, against her better judgement. "She probably just packed my stuff up and put it in there."

"Awesome," he says, and opens up the door. Clarke goes to join him, so she can supervise, and, as expected, there are a few boxes in there labeled _Clarke_. Bellamy hauls them out into the middle of the room, and she sits down with him. He still hesitates before opening the first one. "You don't mind?"

"I'm expecting you to return the favor," she says. "I want to see all your embarrassing high-school shit."

"Most of mine is just on the internet."

She's expecting him to make a dig about her liking his show back then, but he doesn't, opening up the first box instead. It's fairly boring, just a bunch of her old books and stuff, but Bellamy seems curious to see what she used to read. He examines each title with care, and Clarke finds herself leaning in close, telling him which she liked and which let her down, which are gifts from relatives that she never actually read, even the ones that aren't in the box, because she loved them so much she brought them with her when she moved out.

And then, he picks up _Wild Sheep Chase_ and under it, there's a picture of Bellamy from--she _thinks_ Teen Vogue? He's shirtless and his hair is a disaster, and he has a pair of glasses hanging out of his mouth and it is, honestly, some of the most profoundly absurd shit she's ever seen. He's all of eighteen, and not nearly as buff or as attractive as he is now, but--when she was fifteen it was basically the hottest thing in the entire universe.

"Um," she says, but he's already moving the other books out of the way so he can take the picture out. Beneath it is a picture of the entire _Marauders_ cast, which doesn't really make her feel any better, but he doesn't seem to notice that one.

"That was such a fucking weird photoshoot," he says. "It was like--you just turned eighteen, take off your shirt for us."

"Creepy."

"Yeah. Like--James Potter, all grown up. Of course, I was eighteen, so I was convinced I'd been an adult for years."

"You kind of had been. Didn't you get emancipated?"

"Just for tax reasons, but yeah." He finally looks at her, but she can't read his expression. "I never knew how to ask about the show. It felt kind of egotistical to assume you were into it."

"I think it's pretty logical. I was right in the middle of target demographic when it started. Everyone I knew either watched it, or refused to watch it because it was too mainstream."

"Still." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "You were into me."

"You were hot. Everyone was into you. And I was into Rose too. That show really helped with my bisexual awakening."

Bellamy shifts a little closer. "Yeah?"

His voice is a little rough, and Clarke's whole body is prickling with possibility. Bellamy doesn't seem upset or even that amused by the whole thing. He's not really teasing her. He seems, well-- _interested_. A lot more interested than she expected. 

"There's a lot of pornographic fan fiction about you."

He barks out a laugh. "Jesus, and you _read it_?"

"I didn't know you back then! I just thought you were hot, and the show spent so long with you and Rose _not_ making out."

"Well, she hated me."

"Yeah, that just makes for hot sex."

"I guess. I'm more into sex where I like the other person. Does all of this fanfic sex you're into require my partner to hate me?"

"I'm not into it anymore," she protests. "I was in high school! My parents were getting divorced, and I was trying to figure out my sexuality. I don't still read porn about you."

"Good. You could just have the real thing."

Her eyes jerk up to his, and he's biting his lip, watching her, anxious. Which is absurd, because he's _Bellamy Blake_ , and he might not be the biggest movie star in the world, but he's been at the top of at least one _sexiest man_ poll, and she's just--

His friend, and his agent. Someone he clearly cares about. But--he's _nervous_. He's invested.

"Yeah, that sounds a lot better," she says, and that's all it takes for him to bridge the space between them and kiss her. The press of his mouth is slow but firm, leaving her the chance to pull away while making clear that, left to his own devices, he'd kiss her all day.

Which sounds perfect to Clarke, really. She would skip Thanksgiving dinner to make out with Bellamy with no regrets.

"Is this a kink of yours?" she murmurs. "Girls who were into you in high school?"

"Definitely not." He nudges her jaw with his nose, so purely affectionate that her heart trips. "I was just waiting for a sign you might be into me."

"Was that why you wanted to see my room?"

"No, that was to find stuff to make fun of you."

"You can make fun of me for having a huge thing for you, I don't mind."

"No, I'm into it. Not as a kink, just--into you." 

"Romantic."

"Yeah, I try." He leans in for another kiss, threading one big hand in her hair, and Clarke opens for him eagerly. She's never been good at completely losing herself in these things, always remains aware of herself as if she's watching from a distance, and now there's a corner of her brain that can't stop thinking, on a loop, that she's making out with _Bellamy Blake_. She's pushing him back and climbing on top of him, and his free hand is sliding under her shirt to pull her closer, and it's a few steps beyond surreal but also somehow feels like a it's been a long time coming.

Bellamy must be thinking the same thing, because he laughs, and when she pulls back to look at him, he says, "I've been wanting to do this for months."

"I've been wanting to do this for ten years," she shoots back, and he rolls them over so he can press her down instead. His mouth finds her jaw, and she squirms a little, until he gets his leg between hers and gives her something to push back against.

"That's why I was hoping you were going to have some suggestions for me," he says, and she doesn't actually put together what he means until he adds, "I could fulfill some adolescent fantasies, right?"

"We're making out on my bedroom floor. It doesn't get more adolescent than that."

He pushes back the collar of her shirt so he can bite her shoulder, a gentle reprimand. "If you just tell me what you want, I'll do it," he says, which might be the hottest thing that's ever happened to her. "But I want to hear."

"A lot of it was just, like--holding hands and kissing with no tongue."

"Yeah?" His hand slides under her shirt and keeps going up, pushing her bra out of the way so he can squeeze her breast, and her brain shorts out for a second. "What was the rest of it?"

"Your fucking hands, yeah," she says. "All the time. That was--easy."

His mouth is back on her neck, deliberate. No teeth, no chance of marks that won't fade before dinner. "Easy?"

"I just pretended my fingers were yours."

He groans against her shoulder. "I'm pretending you still do that now so I don't feel like a creep."

"I don't do that now because I don't want to be a creep. I pretend I'm not thinking about you when I get off."

"Yeah, me too. But I'd rather just do it with you."

"Here?" she can't help asking. He has her nipple between his fingers and it feels so good she's honestly having trouble focusing. But--they're on her bedroom floor on Thanksgiving. Her mom's going to be home soon, probably.

"The full high-school experience, right?"

"I never once fantasizes about this exact thing."

"That was pretty specific."

"There were a lot of fics about James and Lilly hooking up in the dorms and having to stay quiet so no one would hear them, so--that's related."

He pauses. "Yeah, that's pretty good. I could do that."

Which is how she ends up fucking Bellamy Blake for the first time ever pressed up against the door of the closet in her childhood bedroom, with one of his hands over her mouth and the other working her clit while he thrusts into her.

They flop on the bed to bask in the afterglow, Clarke curled into Bellamy's chest. Part of her regrets the lack of nudity, but she's planning to follow him home and get naked after dinner, so she can wait. At least she got laid.

"I can't believe you brought a condom to Thanksgiving at my mother's," she teases, once she's regained her breath.

"I didn't bring it, I just had it in my wallet."

"Just in case."

"I would have been pretty bummed if I didn't have it." He kisses her hair. "So, uh, do I live up to expectations?"

"Come on, I had no realistic ideas about sex back then. I couldn't even imagine it being this good. I still wasn't sold on dicks inside me." She pushes herself up off his chest to kiss him. "You're good, Bellamy."

"I bet I can do better," he says, and she grins.

"Yeah, can't wait."

*

"So, be honest," says the reporter. She's cute, about Clarke's age, with a twinkle in her eye. It's Clarke's first red carpet as a celebrity date, instead of an industry person, and she's not used to the attention. But Bellamy's hand is on her back and he's definitely going to get an Emmy, so it's hard to worry about saying the wrong thing. Everything is awesome. "You're twenty five, right?"

"I am. I'm not really old enough I need to lie about my age yet."

The woman laughs, so apparently it was a good answer. "So, how many posters of Bellamy did you have on your walls in high school? I had three."

Bellamy grins. "Yeah? Which ones?"

"All the ones they sold at Hot Topic," says the reporter. "I'm not proud."

"At least you bought the real ones," Clarke says. "I just cut pictures out of Teen Vogue."

"Teen Vogue, really?" he asks.

"Shut up, they're doing really good work now."

"Uh huh."

"So, you're a long-time fan," says the reporter.

"What can I say? He was really cute when he was seventeen."

"What about now?" asks Bellamy, all fake outrage.

"You'll do," she says, and he grins.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm hoping so."


End file.
